


Apologies

by Rosie447



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Canon Compliant, Character Study-ish, Gen, Mild Language, Missing Scene, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-06-24 20:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19731409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie447/pseuds/Rosie447
Summary: The dust has cleared, to some extent, at least, and Steve Harrington is left with a nail-bat that doesn't belong to him.





	Apologies

The Byers’ house was tucked in an inconspicuous patch of woods, and the path to it winding through the trees with the lazy ease of a summer afternoon. It’s a straightforward enough drive from town, one that Byers the younger presumably makes biking on a daily basis, which means that the tension in Steve’s shoulders, the continuous glancing into the side view mirrors, could only generously been attributed to a lack of familiarity with this area of Hawkins. He’d lived here since the seventh grade, but never had friends who lived in this particular corner of the woods.

He pulled the car into park in the driveway, the car gently wobbling on the uneven gravel. It’s just after 6:00 on a Friday afternoon, a time in which no person with friends would be caught at home. Steve hadn’t any doubts that Jonathan Byers was. Which was kind of sad, if he thought about it, but he really didn’t _want_ to think about it because that would lead to a lot of questions he wasn’t particularly interested in answering. It still hurt to chew and he’d had to swipe his mother’s concealer that morning to downplay the angry purple flush around his eye - not that anyone needed to know that - thanks to Jonathan. Not that he didn’t have it coming.

The house was still a mess, from what he glimpsed of the living room through broken glass, millions of lamps clustered on every available surface. He considered for a moment dropping the whole thing, and returning to his car, driving back to town. There was no reason why he couldn’t. He hadn’t told anyone where he was going; there was no one to hold him accountable. Before he could talk himself out of it, he knocked.

It didn’t occur to him until a small brunette woman opened the door that Jonathan might not be home alone. She studied him for a moment, which made him a bit nervous. He wasn’t entirely sure how much Mrs. Byers _knew_. He imagined she knew about the fight, but did Jonathan ever tell her what it was about, what he _said_? The only interaction he remembers with her is sitting slumped in a hospital chair along with the rest of them, awaiting news about Will. He wasn’t sure why he’d stuck around, save for the fact that leaving in that moment just felt like a generally shitty thing to do. Or perhaps she was just taking in the wooden bat studded with nails he was clenching a bit too tightly in his right hand.

“Um, hi Mrs. Byers. Is Jonathan home?”

She nodded. “I’ll get him.” A pause. She gestured to the open doorway. “Would you like to come in?”

“Oh, um, yeah, sure.” _Just stop talking, Steve._ “I mean, yes, thank you.”

Steve could see practically the entire house from the doorway, if he squinted he could almost imagine they were just renovating. A leaf skittered across the front porch, and he tried not to think about the way the lights, now scattered around the house, flickered in warning. 

* * *

“Who was that?” Jonathan glanced up from the pot on the stove. The burner was slightly too strong, and the tomato paste popped as soon as he stopped stirring.

“Steve Harrington,” his mom said, nodding towards the door. “He wanted to talk to you.”

“To me?”

It was a stupid question. It wasn’t as if he would be here for Will.

“That’s what he said.”

“Why?” Will was drawing at the table, his new crayons organized in a rainbow for convenience.

“Dunno.”

Jonathan shrugged and headed for the door. Steve was still outside, though Jonathan was almost certain his mother would have invited him in. He was gripping the nail bat in one hand, studying the hallway with a kind of scrutiny that Jonathan didn’t appreciate. He crossed his arms over his chest and came to a halt in front of the door.

“What do you want?”

It occurred to him a moment later that there probably was no reason to be hostile. They were at a weird point in their relationship, and Jonathan wasn’t entirely sure what to say to him. Steve had been a complete douchebag, but it’s kind of hard to hate the guy who’d rushed a Demogorgon armed with nothing but a baseball bat to save his life.

“I mean,” he amended. “Er, um, what do you want?”

_Kill me now._

“This is yours.”

The accompanying motion was somewhat stiff as Steve held up the bat with nails.

“Oh. Right. Thanks.”

He took the bat, and held it for a moment, unsure of what to do with it.

“Was that all?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “Well, actually no.”

_Which is it?_

Steve sucked in a breathe and made an expression like he was preparing to give a speech he’d rehearsed with a mirror. Not that Jonathan imagined he would have.

“I was dick to you. And I wanted to say sorry.” Steve chewed his lip for a moment. “All the stuff I said about, you know, your family and shit. That was out of line. I was jealous, I think. And, stressed, I dunno. But it was a shitty thing to do, and I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

Jonathan had not prepared himself for this conversation. Likely because a part of him had been under the impression that Steve Harrington didn’t _do_ apologies. Not to people like him, at least.

“Anyway, that was what I came over to say the other night when that thing attacked us.”

“It’s fine.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and focused his gaze on the cluster of trees visible behind Steve. “I mean, yeah, you were a dick but you kind of saved our asses back there. So I guess we’re even.”

“I guess. But it’s not really about being even.”

Jonathan didn’t quite know how to respond to that.

“I mean, I don’t want to just, level the score or whatever. I want to, own up? I guess.” He sighed. “I kind of suck at this.”

“Yeah, you kind of do.” But this was perhaps one of the first times Jonathan could see, at least partially, what Nancy saw in Steve Harrington.

_Nancy._

“You should apologize to Nancy.”

“Yeah, I know. I _did_.” He sounded a little annoyed at that, which was good. They were back on slightly more comfortable footing.

“We didn’t do anything, you know? We were trying to find Will and -” _Barb_.

“Yeah.” Steve glanced behind him at his car, which looked out place on the driveway. “Well, I guess I should-”

“Yeah. Thanks for this,” Jonathan held up the bat.

“Yeah, whatever.” Steve ran his fingers through his hair. “Could you maybe not mention this to her?” It struck Jonathan as an odd request but he nodded. Later, he’ll entertain the notion that it’s a gesture of sincerity. _There’s no angle here. I meant what I said._

“Yeah, sure.”

As Steve turned to go, there was a rustle in the trees. Just a bird flying, most likely, but Steve went entirely tense, fingers at his side curling into fists. Jonathan studied his shoes, well aware that they’d had the same first thought. _Demogorgon_.

Something told him that name was going to stick.

“Actually, wait.”

Steve glanced back at him, frowning. “What?”

Jonathan held the bat. “Here. You can keep it.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s not like we’re going to need it anymore. Plus you’re the only one who got any use out of it, anyway.”

“Oh. Well, thanks.”

“Yeah, well, see you around. I guess.”

“Yeah, see you around.” He paused. “I hope your brother’s doing alright.”

“He is. Thanks.”

And with that he left, the car pulling out of the driveway fast and jerking. Jonathan wasn’t entirely sure if that was a reflection of a desire to leave, or if Steve just wasn’t a particularly cautious driver. He returned to the kitchen, taking over at the stove from his mother.

“That was quick. What did he want?”

“To return the nail bat. I said he could keep it.”

“Oh. Well, that’s nice.”

“Yeah.” And for some reason, the whole interaction struck him, at that moment, as slightly absurd. He grinned, shaking his head. “Yeah, it was weird.”

* * *

_Well, that went well._

Steve ends up skipping the town entirely and driving straight home. He’d forgotten to leave lights on in the morning, leaving the house entirely dark. As he pulled into the garage, his free hand found the handle of the nail bat.

It occurred to him then that he’d have no reasonable explanation for the bat should anyone ask about it. He considered for a moment hiding it in his room but decided that that would make the explanation, on the off chance someone found it, far more challenging.

_You could just get rid of it._

But somehow, he froze at the thought. Like he somehow needed it, which was annoying.

He shoved the bat into the trunk of his car and slammed the lid, praying that he’d never have a reason to use it again.


End file.
